by Ian Todd
“Aye.”
“Whit aboot him?”
“Well, according tae The Stalker’s book ae fantasy, he wis supposed tae hiv shot an auld business partner ae mine, Shaun Murphy. Noo, while a statement fae Central hisnae been released…yet, we’ve been led tae believe that they dug the remains ae Shaun up fae some auld codger’s grave in Lambhill Cemetery earlier in the week. Ah’ve also been reliably informed that poor Shaun hidnae been shot efter aw, bit hid in fact been stabbed tae death,” Wan-bob said calmly, no being disappointed by the reaction, no only fae Howdy and Barker, bit fae auld Joshua Crankie as well.
“Bit…bit, this means…The Stalker’s notebook is totally discredited,” Willie Barker exclaimed, as Wan-bob and Charlie couldnae help themsels again and burst oot laughing.
“Aye, well, that’s whit we’ve been trying tae tell everywan, including that Cleopatra bitch, bit the stupid cow widnae take a telling, so she widnae,” Charlie harrumphed, feigning umbrage, before joining back in wae the merriment.
“So, here’s whit’s happening next. There will be a front page exclusive the morra morning by that wee reporter that’s recently started working fur The Glesga Echo. Fucking brilliant, so she is…and smart? She’s whit ye call a real journalist, so she is,” Wan-bob declared. “She’s no like they miserable fucking pieces ae shit that cannae string an honest sentence thegither if they bloody well tried. She’s gaun places, that wee lassie, so she is,” he said, being interrupted by the lightbulb flash that suddenly went aff behind the eyes ae Howdy, sitting across fae him.
“Bob…Charlie…Christ! Ah’m no that convinced that these charges…indictments against ye…kin go tae trial…especially wae whit ye’ve jist come oot wae…if whit ye’ve jist said is true. Holy shit!”
“Fuck’s sake, it took ye long enough,” Charlie said mockingly, as him and Wan-bob sniggered at the useless basturt.
“So, here’s where we think we ur,” Wan-bob continued. “We reckon that fur that Cleopatra wan tae successfully argue against the charges being drapped against us, she’ll need tae come up wae good enough reasons…like, showing her haun? That means hivving tae disclose any wee hidden, grassing white rabbit basturts that she’s maybe goat tucked away there in reserve,” Wan-bob said modestly, raising up wan ae they bushy eyebrows ae his, making sure Mutt and Jeff goat where he wis coming fae. “Let’s see how good a poker player the stupid cow thinks she is. It’ll either be us sitting up there in the dock, efter she’s been forced tae declare any names she’s goat stashed away in that wee leather shoulder bag ae hers, potentially risking any hidden witnesses’ lives or that arse ae hers will collapse like a pack ae cards. Ah know whit Ah’d dae.”
Silence.
“Of course, not that Mr Brown and Mr Hastie would ever dream of attempting to intimidate a Crown witness,” Joshua Crankie added.
“Bloody hell, Bob…absolutely brilliant!” Howdy exclaimed, interrupting the buzzing bluebottle trying tae figure a way oot ae the madhouse that it hid found itsel trapped in, as Howdy turned tae look at the other two briefs sitting there dumfounded.
“Right, Joshua, it’s time fur you tae go and see if ye cannae get us a wee cup ae tea while we speak tae Willie and John here aboot another, unrelated matter,” Charlie said.
“Oh, right, but, of course,” The Brief said, staunin up. “I’ll just leave my bag here.”
Wance the door hid been pulled shut behind him, efter the exhausted bluebottle hid shot past the auld brief’s right lug like a .303 bullet, the two QCs left sitting wae puzzled expressions oan their faces looked nervously across at Wan-bob.
“Noo then, boys, ye know that wee tweety bird that Ah mentioned earlier, the wan that jist couldnae stoap chirping like a stuck record?” he asked them pleasantly. “Well, Ah hear that wan ae youse ur representing that wife murderer, Teddy Bare. Wid that be right noo?”
“Er, Ah am. Why, is there a problem like?” John Howdy asked, as the pair ae gangsters looked across at him and smiled.
Chapter Fifteen
Pearl let oot a wee dry cough and immediately started tae curse her stupidity under her breath. The echo seemed tae bounce aw aroond the low ceiling ae the car park. Earlier, efter she’d left her work tae go chasing that tail ae hers up and doon the landings ae the tenement closemooths up in Cadder, trying tae find where the hell Susan McFarlane’s flat wis, she’d gied up and heided hame tae put warmer fitwear oan.
“Pearl, where the hell hiv ye been? It’s nearly eleven o’clock at night and that ratty-arsed boss ae yers his been oan the phone aw night looking fur ye, so he his. It sounded as if he wis hivving kittens, so it did,” her ma hid hit her wae as soon as she’d walked through the door.
“Aye, well, if he phones back, tell him ye hivnae seen me. Ah’m aff oot again, wance Ah change oot ae these shoes. Ma feet ur bloody frozen and killing me, so they ur,” she’d said, disappearing intae her bedroom.
“Bit yer job? Maybe he wants tae tell ye that ye’re being kept oan. He sounded desperate, so he did. Why else phone at that time ae the night?”
“Believe you me, Ma, Ah kin assure ye, withoot fear ae contradiction, that that isnae whit the ratty-arse wid’ve been wanting tae speak tae me aboot,” she’d scowled miserably, brushing past her ma in the lobby.
“Bit…”
“Bye, Ma. Ah’ll be a bit later than usual,” she’d said, heidin fur the door five minutes efter entering through it.
Oan the way across George Square, hivving been drapped aff by the number 32 two thirds ae the way doon Renfield Street, jist past the Odeon, she hidnae been aware ae the clip-clop sound ae the leather heels that her boots made, when she wis walking. It meant she’d hid tae scurry oan her tiptoes, while being doubled up, through the low-slung entrance ae the car park, towards the only parked-up car oan the ground flair level. Tae make matters worse, the filthy beast, sitting in the wee glass office wae his feet spread oot, up oan tap ae his desk, jist aff tae the right ae the entrance, hid been sitting there hivving a wank, a dirty magazine spread open across they thighs ae his. The manky basturt hid stoapped in mid-chug, quickly swivelling roond in his seat and peering oot suspiciously at the empty steep hill ae Montrose Street through the gaping entrance, as she’d clamped the palm ae her haun across her mooth, tae stoap the white vapour cloud escaping fae between her lips and nostrils and gieing her presence away. At least she’d been able tae take advantage ae the fact that he’d hid his back tae her. She looked doon at her watch. Eleven fifty. She’d been warned no tae turn up early or the meeting wid be cancelled withoot warning. She wondered if arriving ten minutes before midnight qualified as a cancellation? Whit wis she tae dae, she wondered, peeking oot fae behind the pillar, doon towards the office, fae her spot further up the deserted building. The security guard hid gone back tae gieing himsel a right good tossing. She felt her cheeks burn despite the freezing temperature. She could hear his groaning and panting fae where she wis staunin. Her heart wis thumping, as she slid aff her Vera Neumann haun-stencilled silk scarf that Kim Sui hid gied her and wrapped it roond her face, covering her mooth and nose. She wisnae sure she could go through wae this, she muttered tae hersel, looking aboot the concrete car park. She wis absolutely freezing. Despite the warmth fae the silk scarf that hid been wrapped roond her neck, she couldnae stoap her teeth fae chattering. Whit the bloody hell wis she daeing there, she cursed. She’d never felt comfortable in the dark ever since her ma used tae tell her bed time stories aboot Hairytoes, when she wis a wean tae scare her tae stay in her bed and go tae sleep. Tae make matters worse, wan ae the few light bulbs in the place, up aheid, where she wis supposed tae be gaun, wis flickering aff and oan, casting scary shadows across the expanse ae the next level up oan the ramp. She noo regretted gaun tae see ‘Don’t Open The Door’ wae Aggie and Helen two weeks earlier, doon at The Classic. Why the hell hid she let them convince her tae go? She’d need tae go hame. She jist couldnae go through wae it. The place wis too scary, she kept telling hersel, peering intae the dark nooks and
crannies surrounding her. She could hear the odd car engine heidin alang George Street every noo and again through the open side ae the wall across tae her right. She hidnae heard a bus so far, so assumed they’d called it a night. She wondered how she wis gonnae get hame…if she made it oot ae the place alive, that wis. The caller…the wummin…the wan she wis supposed tae be meeting…wid surely phone her back if she decided tae furget it and slink back the way she’d come. Why the hell wid anywan want tae meet in a dank, dark, pishy smelling car park in the middle ae the bloody night anyway? She’d jist be honest and up front wae her and explain that she wis too feart ae the dark. She peered roond the pillar tae work oot the best way tae try and exit the place withoot being clocked.
“Uh, uh, uh, oh Maaammmy, Daaaadddy!” The Mad Wanker suddenly started whimpering through a clenched groan, his legs suddenly straightening oot in front ae him, the shoes oan they feet ae his shaking like a set ae silent tambourines, looking as if he wis hivving an epileptic fit in the chair, as his haun became a blur and the groaning sound swept past her up the ramp towards the second level.
“Oh-yeh, oh-yes, oh-yessss, oh-Arggghhhh, ya whore, ye,” Mr Wanker yelped, whimpering and groaning loudly, as a big splurge ae whit looked like white wallpaper paste, shot oot ae that dick ae his like a streaky missile and landed somewhere oan the desk between his legs.
Pearl stood there transfixed wae embarrassment and shame, no being able tae drag her eyes away fae wan ae the maist disgusting sights she’d ever witnessed, since clocking that farmer up in the Highlands shagging that poor wee helpless sheep. And the dirty basturt wisnae finished either.
“Oh ma god! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!” he hauf sang, whimpering pitifully, suddenly jumping up aff the chair, his troosers and drawers suddenly disappearing, presumably roond they hidden ankles ae his, exposing his white hairy arse cheeks, as he furiously continued tae toss himsel aff oan tae the glossy pages ae the magazine, before letting oot whit sounded uncannily like wan ae her grannies big ginger tom cats, letting oot a long, pitiful meow, when it wis efter a wee saucer full ae the creamy milk fae the neck ae her bottle ae milk, first thing in the morning.
“Bloody hell, there’s absolutely no way Ah’m gonnae try and sneak back past that filthy basturt oan ma ain, so there’s no,” she cursed tae hersel, staunin wae her back against the cauld, concrete pillar, looking fearfully up towards the ramp, three pillars in front ae her, towards the beckoning, flickering bulb.
Efter somehow managing tae compose hersel, she looked doon at her watch again. Five tae midnight. Should she risk it and jist nip up the ramp? If there wis nowan there, at least she could honestly claim tae hiv turned up. Who the hell wis it she wis meeting wae anyway? She’d been warned no tae tell a soul.
“Hello, is that Pearl…Pearl Campbell?” a voice she didnae recognise hid asked her, efter she’d snatched up the phone oan her desk.
“Is that you, Miss Metcalfe…Glenda Metcalfe, the procurator fiscal?”
Silence.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Er, this is Pearl Campbell, The Glesga Echo’s newest award-winning journalist speaking, so it is,” she’d sang, quickly realising she’d messed up wae whoever wis oan the other end ae the line.
“Hello?” she’d asked again, cursing under her breath, before leaning o’er tae drap the receiver back oan tae the cradle, picking up the distant, tinny voice ae somewan speaking jist in time.
“Hello? Er, Ah’m sorry…it’s me, Ah’m, er, back. Please don’t hing up,” she’d pleaded, scrambling aboot the desk wae her haun, trying tae find a bloody pen.
“The wee multi-storey car park at the bottom ae Montrose Street. Be there at midnight the night and come alone…”
“Bit who’s…”
“Also, make sure ye come in through the front entrance. If ye turn up early, then ye kin furget it. Midnight. Bang oan the dot.”
“Furget whit…”
“Ah need tae talk tae ye…alone. Don’t keep me waiting noo,” the voice warned her.
“Kin Ah ask whit, er, ye want tae talk tae me aboot?”
Silence.
“Hello?”
“There’s a night watchman who’ll probably be sitting in that wee glass box ae his at the front entrance. Wears a uniform and calls himsel a security guard. He’s a disgruntled ex-polis inspector. Whitever ye dae, don’t let him catch ye trying tae sneak past him. He’s well known fur his violent behaviour, especially against wummin, so he is.” the voice crackled in her ear, wae whit sounded like a bus or a lorry thundering past her in the background, before hinging up.
She’d sat there, thinking aboot whit The Voice hid been saying, aboot some polis inspector being known fur hivving violent tendencies. Christ, that hidnae been news tae somewan like her. She’d jist aboot jumped two feet oot ae her chair though, when The Rat hid suddenly appeared behind her chair.
“How ur ye getting oan wae that Teddy Bear wan?” he’d squeaked, before jumping back. “Christ, whit a bloody fright ye gied me. Ye look as if ye’ve jist seen a ghost, so ye dae.”
“Oh, er, it’s nothing, Mr Elliot. Ah…Ah think that period ae mine is jist aboot tae kick in,” she’d replied, feeling aw flushed and flustered.
“Whoa!” he’d screeched in that ratty voice ae his. “Jist stoap right there, Missy, hen. Fuck’s sake, Pearl, too much information…w-a-y too much. This is a family newspaper, so it is. Keep aw that stuff fur when ye’re at hame. None ae us in here want tae know whit youse wummin get up tae behind oor backs, so we don’t.”
“Eh?”
“The story? Teddy Bare? The raper ae aw they poor wee innocent virgin poliswummin?”
“Oh, right, aye, er, well, Ah’m still beavering away oan it, so Ah am.”
“Well, ye better hurry up then. Time’s marching oan and yours is fast running oot, so it is. If anywan’s looking fur me, Ah’ll be back in a jiffy. Ah’ve been summoned…er, Ah mean, Ah’ve been asked tae meet somewan who disnae like tae be kept waiting, roond in The Horseshoe Bar.”
She looked doon at her watch again. Bang oan midnight, gie or take a few seconds. She sucked in a deep breath through they chattering teeth ae hers and made a mad dash fur it, bent o’er, oan her tip-toes, tae the next pillar. She quickly turned and peeked doon at the entrance. The Mad Wanker wis noo sitting there, eating whit looked like a big banana sandwich fae where she wis staunin. Another deep breath and she wis aff again. This time, she skipped wan ae the pillars tae nip behind the last wan at the bottom ae the ramp. She wis in total darkness noo. She peered oot and looked back towards Eat The Breid. He hidnae finished that sandwich ae his, bit wis noo sitting, licking in-between they fingers ae his wae his big tongue. Wance she managed tae get the boaking in the back ae her throat under control, she still wisnae sure that she widnae throw up through her good scarf. The fact that it wis a designer wan probably saved the day. She took a deep breath and attempted tae scurry up the ramp towards the flickering light, bit her legs widnae budge.
“C’mone Pearl, let’s get this o’er and done wae, hen,” she muttered fearfully through a violent bout ae shivering. “Wan…two…three!” she gasped, scurrying up the ramp oan her toes, veering aff tae the right when she reached the tap and disappearing oot ae sight ae Mr Finger Licking Good, doon at that wee glass office ae his.
She looked aboot, trying no tae scream in fear at aw the shadows that the flickering light wis throwing up aw roond aboot her. If she thought doon the ramp behind her hid been scary, then this wis straight aff the set ae the Hammer Hoose ae Horrors and Alfred Hitchcock, aw rolled in tae wan.
“Whit noo?” she murmured, still shaking like a leaf.
She peered intae the darkness.
“Hello?” she whispered quietly, quickly spinning roond, hauf expecting a length ae skipping rope tae be suddenly wrapped roond her neck. “Hello,” she repeated, only this time a wee bit louder.
Christ, whit wis she tae dae? She couldnae face gaun back doon the way she’d jist come up. Whit if
The Mad Wanker, known fur being violent towards wummin, hid spotted her and wis creeping up oan her? Oh ma god…she wis only nineteen…she didnae want tae be found strangled in the morning, her face splashed aw across the Green Fingers section by Slipper, the paper’s crime photographer, aw because ae some bloody gentlemen’s agreement.
“Naw, that’s it, Ah’m oot ae here,” she muttered tae hersel, before jist aboot drapping wae fright.
She instantly recognised the scraping sound ae a match, raking across the sandpaper side ae a box, sounding like a cutlass being withdrawn fae its scabbard, as a spooky lit-up face suddenly appeared across in the dark corner opposite her, looking exactly like Cruella Deville’s, before the flame wis suddenly extinguished, leaving jist the red glowing tip ae the fag hinging in the air.
“H…hello?” she fearfully whispered loudly.
“Ssshhhh, keep it doon or ye’ll get us done,” the scary voice hissed at her fae the red lighted fag-end across in the corner.
“D…done? Done fur whit?” she stammered.
“Never you mind that. Let’s get doon tae business.”
“B…business?” her voice quaked.
“Tell me where ye ur wae the Teddy Bare case.”
“Eh, bit…”
“Ye heard me.”
“Oh, er, where will Ah start?”
“Fae the beginning…and don’t leave anything oot either.”
“Oh, er…” she whimpered.
She wisnae sure how long she’d whispered fur. She hidnae realised that whispering fur any longer than a few minutes wis so much harder than jist hivving a normal conversation. It could’ve been twenty minutes or hauf an hour she’d stammered fur. She couldnae remember how many fags Cruella Deville hid lit up, although each time she hid, she’d cupped her haun o’er the lighted match, hiding her face.
“So, whit dae ye need fae me?” the voice rasped, throwing her aff kilter, though she wis relieved tae see that Cruella wis hivving the same voice problems as her.
